


Darkness, Sunrise

by helena_s_renn



Category: Greta Van Fleet (Band), Music RPF
Genre: Greta Van Teens, M/M, dub-con if you squint, minor fisticuffs, not fluffy, possible homophobia, underage sexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 21:13:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20896196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helena_s_renn/pseuds/helena_s_renn
Summary: 2nd of 2 Danny-centric fics. Things that had only been under the surface, manifest.Danny watched the pavement. “Get your mind out of my pants."





	Darkness, Sunrise

**Author's Note:**

> *Takes place the day after the first. Another band, skater/surfer-boy fusion. 
> 
> *Everyone has to figure out things like this: our orientation, our level of fear/acceptance, who we love and in what manner. Danny being very young here has little sorted yet. 
> 
> *Danny/Jake is the main; Danny/Sam is background (always!)
> 
> *Lots of folks on IG get off on the whole "vamp daddy Jake" thing. I didn't make him a vampire but this fic does bring out his darker side a little. 
> 
> *This is fiction and should be read as such.

-2014

Another dawn. Cloudier that day, more blues, purples, lace-like scalloped clam-shell edges lined by yellow-white. Danny thought about the last sunrise he’d seen. But not too hard, or he’d get hard and Jake seemed to be able to smell that on a guy. He liked to taunt people and steal their lays, Jake.

Sam and Josh had gone ahead, leaving the somewhat rundown cabin they'd rented before it was light. Usually Danny was the first one up. The previous night, he'd had one too many beers around the campfire sing-along to be pried from sleep easily, rolling over and grumbling for a few more minutes of peace when Jake came in to shake him again. 

They were skateboarding along the paved walking trail to the beach, pushing off with one foot then the other, surfboards under their arms. The path ended in a small town along the shore, in the shadows of an alleyway, which itself would let out onto the beachfront in another quarter mile or less. They never saw anyone ever down there this early except surfers – locals – and a few delivery men brave enough to drop off newspapers or convenience store brand groceries. It was Sunday, so that took care of business, so to speak. Jake and Danny hadn’t encountered a soul in blocks. It was just them, the smell of salt and garbage that pervaded. With a handful of dry cereal in his belly, Danny was less hungry and less queasy than when he'd woke. It could have made him less alert, he was never sure later. 

Out of nowhere, Jake spoke like he tended to – barely loud enough to hear but like he’d just thought of the greatest idea ever, Right Now. Danny missed an uneven crack in the pavement and tripped himself up over an empty bean can crawling with ants. The unexpected proclamation left his mind reeling; his quick athleticism had him back on his feet in a second. “What did you say?” 

“I said, I want you. I wanna fuck you." Those laughing eyes flicked at him, but Jake kept one foot on his skateboard and pushed off again. So did Danny, picking up speed. They crossed another street. Another alley yawned on the far side of the cracked curb. 

So, he’d heard right. Clutching his borrowed surfboard tighter, Danny wasn’t so sure he wanted to go down there. He wasn’t about to run away scared, though. If he had to, he’d fight. Dirty. They didn't talk about it, but by their age everyone knew a boy or two who’d been though that sort of hell, usually because of a stepdad or funny uncle. Not like this! Didn’t Jake know? He’d be damaged, torn, maybe wouldn’t be able to walk back? Maybe it was his friend’s way of working out something that had been done to him – Danny wouldn’t doubt it, what with how close the brothers were. There had to be some reason. 

His survival instinct was stronger than that, Jake or no Jake, friend or no friend. It made Danny feel sick. His grudging respect for the other musician turned to his earlier nausea. “Why don’t you just... bang one of your hoes?” seemed like the most logical deflector. Danny hated it when people referred to girls like that, but it sounded like the necessary rudeness to use in this context.

“Don’t want to – not…” Jake chuckled, ‘ahk, ahk, ahk’ catching in the back of his throat. “Not since your pubes came in.”

Scowling, Danny watched the pavement. “Get your mind out of my pants. Fuck off.”

“I told you… I’d rather fuck _you_.”

Danny was getting really pissed off. “Yeah, I’ll bet. What are you, queer?” The accusation filled him with a sense of betrayal. He wondered what the term for himself was, if he liked just one boy, not 'boys'. Jake and Josh must like boys. Then why were they always pulling chicks? 

Jake snorted at him, laughed again. “You’re so stupid. This is just… something we all do. To belong.” 

“Like hell.” What Danny wondered was, when had this happened? No one had ever said one word about it (and he wasn’t even the youngest). Not aloud. Till now. The thing with Sam, that was... his. Theirs. Nothing to do with the twins. 

“Oh, come on. Sex is great. Not like you’d know, huh?”

Sex. Danny turned red. He did know, as of recently. If Jake wasn't aware of Danny's status change, so much the better. “Shut up, man, bitches love me.” He used the word this time to downplay what he was increasingly scared was going on here. 

Jake’s laugh rasped at him again. “Too bad you don’t love them back. You got a crush on me, don’t yah? And Sam--”

Before the name singsonged all the way out of Jake's mouth, Danny had set down the yellow-and-orange surfboard – carefully – and launched himself at the guitarist. Balled fists flying, he punched recklessly, skinning his right-hand knuckles on Jake’s teeth and the left on a cement-block wall when his opponent jumped back in time. Danny found he was growling, more-so when Jake grabbed him and twisted his arm behind his back, holding him face-first against the grimy dirty-white paint. 

Finding himself pressed between two hard, if not flat surfaces, Danny went stiff and motionless, poised to bolt. Jake’s breath ruffled his hair; long, sunbleached strands brushed his nose and cheek. Inhaling deep, Jake proclaimed, “Mmm… unwashed male. You’ll smell better later. And taste better.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Taste? What the hell? Heart pounding, Danny steeled himself. This was wrong, not like when he and Sam… No, not now! Jake was shorter than him, body ripped and taut like he ran daily. He shouldn't be so strong. Another thing, Danny had heard the rumors about what the older brothers were like south of the border. Shit, it was true.

A bronze-caramel hand ran down his flank, over his butt under the tight stretch of his wetsuit. Around, rubbed between his legs till his dick swelled against his will. The smooth skin was hot, humid, like steam was coming off him and drenching them both. Jake’s chest, Danny’s back. Danny knew what was pushing against the crack of his ass. Soft lips closed around his earlobe, sucked a little. Like a rubber band stretched to the brink of snapping, Danny squeezed his eyes shut. He shook with rage, and more. Mostly at himself. 

In his next breath, Jake had backed off, halfway across the alley. Danny turned and advanced on him, snarling, furious, teeth bared. For his trouble, he got an elbow in the sternum. “Settle down, yah punk, before you hurt yourself,” Jake sniggered at him, grinning with red teeth. He spat the blood from his mouth to the side, to the ground. 

Retreating warily, Danny picked up his board and started off toward the beach as fast as possible without it being ‘running away’. His chest still hurt like a bitch. The tingling between his legs hadn’t entirely gone away. 

In less than two minutes, Jake caught him up. They were in plain sight of the familiar pilings and there were a few surfers in the water or up on the pier. All around them hung the squawking keow-keows of seagulls and the never-quiet echo of the sea.“That wasn’t so bad, huh, DannyBoy.”

Still riled, Danny made no answer. Jake hadn’t buggered him, though for a minute there he’d been afraid, very afraid. It wasn’t like kissing Sam, which was sweet and pure. Nor was it truly fighting. That bit of sparring was more like play, in retrospect. If he’d really been that serious, Danny told himself, they’d be missing teeth, have broken bones or balls by now. 

Hooking up, sex, whatever, was an opportunistic experience for everyone like them. Jake got it because of his age, his looks, his attitude, his cockiness. Still a babyface, Danny hadn’t been lying about how girls followed him around at gigs and cooed at him but he was like a child to most of them. 

Okay, maybe it wasn’t exactly what he wanted, but Jake was offering him something. He wasn’t about to say so out loud, to acknowledge his chances. Better to keep his mouth shut and wait for it to come to him again, if it did. The other option was just taking it, and that would be the fight of his life, no doubt. 

The sun was up now, and the waves and eddies shone with bright, diffused radiance. Danny had missed its rising in the preoccupation with his own. Down in the water, he saw Sam’s water-darkened head bobbing between, the long tendrils fanning out behind and around him. 

Something heavy settled onto him. There was the urge to drag Sam out and away, maybe home, anywhere but here, and do those things to him - no, with him - that Jake had promised. He also feared that Jake would tell Sam first about what had happened in that alley, before Danny could settle his mind. No, that wouldn’t happen. Danny wouldn’t let it. He would learn, and then he would teach. By the time he knew this would be so, Danny was at the water’s edge, his sneakers kicked off and wet sand spongy around his toes.

Unerringly, Sam looked their way. His eyes caught the light and they flashed amber. Danny nodded back like he would on any other day and dove in. 

Fin. 


End file.
